


Once a boy

by egmon73



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood Memories, M/M, Pre-Relationship, child kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 06:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15137633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egmon73/pseuds/egmon73
Summary: Mycroft might claim to be the Iceman, even when he is asked out by a handsome silver fox. His actions however betray him, showing a different aspect of his persona. It is up to Greg to act on it.UPDATE: betaed!





	Once a boy

**Author's Note:**

> I should be reviewing the next chapter of "a matter of brain", but this wanted to be written. Sorry, it is not betaed, so I really apologise for the mistakes, English is my third language.  
> UPDATE: the incredibly kind Mystrade resident Dragon has betaed it and removed the incredible amount of mistakes present! Thanks so much Bryntwedge!

The boy, probably no more than 12 years old, was standing still, frozen in shock, fighting the big tears randomly running down his cheeks without much success. He was loudly sniffing and trying to make himself small in a corner of a room while unidentified people were running around working themselves into a frenzy. They needed to be sure that all the culprits were fed to the justice system; or anyhow made to disappear. His body was trying to cover, in a protective manner, a tiny girl with two ponytails embellished by pink ribbons. He held the girl’s hand; she clung to it while observing the frantic movements of the people around her from a reassuring spot behind the boy’s back. His back was indeed a very good shield: the boy, probably her big brother, was overweight and tall for his age and so his back could hide more than two little girls of that size. The girl’s eyes were full of fear, but not so much in panic as those of the bigger boy. Her young age will probably allow her to forget the whole ordeal; she does not fully understand what happened and she had someone taking care of her all the time. A loving big brother can do miracles in these cases by holding, reassuring, and closing her eyes when needed. It was going to be tougher for the elder of the two, for sure; old enough to comprehend the risk they run by being kidnapped by heartless assassins – who did not hesitate to kill the other elder girl kidnapped together with them because they realized that her parents contacted the police. They probably would have ended in the same way without the secret service intervention; luckily, their father was a diplomat. 

More than one agent had already tried to approach the boy, who flinched and whined at each attempt. Their parents were waiting for them in a secure location; it was not safe for them to be brought in the warehouse as shots were still being fired. The kids had to leave the warehouse as soon as possible to receive a medical evaluation, join their family, and avoid any further risk.

Both police officers and agents did not know how to handle the situation; not to panic or distress the kids even more which could cause their powerful parents’ wrath. That possible consequence was a very big incentive to stay as far away as possible from the kids.

“Boss, oh my God, look there,” Donovan whispered.

“Donovan, there’s no time to waste; one of the kidnappers is still on the loose,” he answered. He then huffed, annoyed.  “We have all these agents around, no coordination between us, and I have no clue why we have been called! There’s even the risk we might be shooting at each other!”

“Boss, please.” Donovan touched his arm and pointed with a finger at a corner of the warehouse, one floor below their position. Two small figures were standing there, barely visible in the dim light, surrounded by agents in black who maintained a certain distance from them.  

“Fuck! Why did no one tell us that there were minors involved? What are they thinking? We need the paramedics now, and a child psychologist. What the fuck are they doing?”

Greg observed the situation; his instinct was to run to the kids, but in order to do so he needed to take the stairs running down along the wall of the warehouse from the door where he is located, completely open and unprotected. He would be the perfect target. He looked around to investigate for an alternative route, when Sally touched his arm again.

“Isn’t that man the freak’s brother?”

Greg returned with his gaze towards the kids and he saw an elegant man cladded in a three-piece-suit approaching the two small figures, holding an umbrella in his hand. _Mycroft._ His presence was shocking enough as he knew that Mycroft did not do legwork, but that was just the beginning of his surprise. The I-have-a-minor-position-in-the-British-Government approached the kids and knelt in front of them, on the filthy ground of the warehouse, where not-better-identified fluids and dirt were present. The elder Holmes removed his jacket, threw it carelessly on a desk nearby together with the umbrella, rolled up his sleeves, and started talking to the boy while getting his trousers soaked in whatever was on the floor.

The scene mesmerized Greg. The redhead kept going for a very long time, constantly talking, until the boy and girl finally moved towards him and took one of his hands each. The boy in particular seemed more relaxed. Mycroft rose from the ground and calmly, but speedily, guided them towards a door and disappeared.      

Greg was not able to take his eyes off the door when Sally called him again, holding her mobile. “News from headquarters. The last one has been captured. We can go, our presence is not required any more. We have been told not to mention to anyone what or who we have seen here.” Sally uttered the last sentence with a condescending sneer.

Greg needed some seconds to react. “Right. Let’s go then. I badly need a shower.”

***

One month and two homicides later, Greg, Sally, and the rest of the team were at the entrance door of another warehouse trying to fix the mess caused by Sherlock, who was sitting on the ground tended by John with a provisional bandage around his arm. A big swollen bruise was also visible on his forehead.

“You could have died!”

“Lestrade, it is just a minor scratch. I captured him!”

“You did nothing. The clerk toppled over because John grabbed his leg!”

“But I found out that he was the one who killed the woman in the elevator!”

“Yes and after this brilliant deduction you should have called me, not chased him on your own! As you see, it can be dangerous! You hit your head falling and cut your arm in the debris.”

“I was not on my own, I had John with me!” The world’s only consulting detective was sulking on the ground, while John was blatantly adoring him with his eyes.

A black car swiftly approached the warehouse’s entrance where they were located, despite the “do not trespass” tape and the officers around. _Such an overt display of power_ , Greg thought. Mycroft exited the car, and quickly located Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh please, go home.”

“I have been informed that you have been injured.” The official approached them swinging his umbrella. The only sign of distress were his knuckles, white from the force he was exerting to hold the handle.

“Well, now you have seen that I am not. Go away.” Sherlock refused even to look at his brother.

“It seems to me that the information I received was correct.”

Sherlock did not respond, so John chimed in. “His arm has just a scratch, a couple of stiches is all that might be needed; I am more worried about a possible concussion.”

The black car had to be moved due to the arrival of the ambulance. Not only was Sherlock injured, but also their suspect – the clerk who rolled down the stairs thanks to John’s intervention. Paramedics surrounded Sherlock, who started complaining immediately, but the presence of John did wonders.

Greg ascertained that Sherlock was well taken care of, shouted a “Donovan, you are in charge for 15 minutes! I need to check a couple of things", and looked for Mycroft. The redhead had stepped away from his brother, but he was still checking the situation. Greg decided to take his chance and approach him. They were outside, enough far away from everyone else not to be heard.

“I think it is really not serious. John would have been much more concerned, otherwise.”

Mycroft looked at him. A fake smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you, Detective Inspector.”

“There’s no need of formalities, Mycroft. No one can hear us here.”

“There is always a need of formalities. Our relationship is strictly professional, Lestrade. I have been told that politeness is important in such relationships.”

“Our relationship is strictly professional only because you wanted it to stay this way, Mycroft. I made my feelings pretty clear to you after Sherrinford. However, you told me that you don’t do relationships, besides the professional ones; that caring is not an advantage.”

Mycroft was looking at the ambulance lights, his back straight and stiff, umbrella clasped with both hands. “That is correct, Inspector.”

“Bullshit.”

Mycroft’s eyes imperceptibly widened, undetectable for anyone except for Greg, who noticed the detail. He had experience with ‘Holmes’ expressions. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said ‘bullshit’. I saw you in that warehouse last month, with the kids.”

Mycroft opened his mouth and closed it again. He licked his lips but did not answer. He slowly moved behind a wall, so that he was not even visible from the warehouse’s entrance. Greg followed.

“For someone who does not care, I saw a lot of caring there. Not to mention the fact that you care daily about Sherlock,” Greg continued.

“You are mistaken. The children were the son and the daughter of an important diplomat. If they had been harmed, we could have had a severe diplomatic incident. It was of the utmost importance that the kids were safely brought to their parents as soon as possible.”

“Yes, and for that purpose you had to be present, kneel on the floor and ruin your suit. All the while whispering reassuring words to two kids whom you manage to convince to hold your hands, after all they went through.”

A slight pink colour blossoming on his cheeks gave Mycroft’s feelings away. He still did not respond.

Greg pressed. “In the same way, it’s not caring to arrive here even before the ambulance to check whether your brother is seriously injured. You must have jumped in the car from your office window.”

“Why are you telling me all this, Inspector?” Finally a reaction.

“Greg.”

“Gregory.”

“Because it seems to me that for someone who claims not to be capable to have any feelings, your actions tell something different.” The bolder Greg became, the more flustered Mycroft looked.

“Is your intention to mock me?”

So much sorrow was visible in those blue-grey stormy eyes. Without even thinking, Greg reached for Mycroft’s hand, taking it in his. “No.”

Mycroft looked shocked, and moved his eyes from their connected hands to Greg’s eyes. He pulled his hand away and Greg felt a painful tug at his heart.

“That boy reminded me of someone.” Mycroft’s voice was barely a whisper. “I needed to be sure that the boy’s fate was going to be different from that one of the boy I knew.”

Greg was rapidly processing all the information. He needed to be fast, and spot on. _Come on Greg, you are normally good at understanding people_. Realization dawned.

“Why can’t the other boy’s fate be changed too?”

“It is too late.” Mycroft shook his head.

“It’s never too late, Mycroft. Never. It might be difficult, challenging, it may require adaptations, but it is possible to start a new life at any point in time. I got divorced after 20 years of marriage, but I don’t feel doomed. As you know, I even tried to start a new relationship.” Greg smiled sadly.

Mycroft looked away. The mask was slipping, discomfort and pain now clearly visible in his face.

“That other boy…. was you, correct?” Greg continued.

Mycroft closed his eyes and tightened his lips. “Yes, correct.”

“The other kid, the girl, represents Sherlock. You spent your childhood protecting him.”

Eyes still closed. “Yes.”

“Sherlock’s puns about your weight then… were you overweight as a kid? Like the boy in the warehouse?”

Mycroft looked defeated. “Yes. Can we stop here, please? Again, what is the meaning of all this? What do you want to achieve?”

“Listen Mycroft, normally if someone tells me that he is not interested, I accept it. I can take it; I’m not a stalker. I have learned the hard way that, in order to have a good healthy relationship, both people have to be involved and committed to it. I am 50; I am not looking for a fling. I tried with you once, asking you out. You said no. Normally, I would have stopped there. In this case, I am asking again, but I would like not only an offhand ‘no’, but also something like a ‘because I am not interested in you’ or ‘I have no feelings for you’ completing it. Do that for me and I swear I will stop bothering you, ok?”

Probably slapping Mycroft in the face would have had a lesser effect. The pain in Mycroft eyes increased and he looked utterly abashed.   

“I… I cannot do that.”

Hope was swirling in Greg’s heart.

“Mycroft? Would you… would you like to try? With me?” Greg offered his hand again.

Mycroft did not take it, still shaking his head. “Gregory, you would regret it very quickly. I am really not good with sentiments. It will not work.”

Greg’s heart broke a little.

“Mycroft, what I saw was good enough. I’m not asking you to become the most affectionate person ever. That Mycroft I witnessed calming down the frightened kids was an amazingly warm-hearted one. You always let your brother have an umpteenth chance. You even let those kids have another chance. Why don’t you let yourself have one too?”

Mycroft was still looking away. Greg sighed. “Ok, Mycroft, look, I need to go back to check what’s going on. I’ll also look after your brother and text you if there are any problems.” Greg started walking towards the entrance.

“Gregory?”

Greg turned and saw a wide-eyed Mycroft looking at him, his hands fretting. “That boy… they told him that he was unlovable.”

_God_. “They were wrong, Mycroft. Would you have ever said to that boy you helped that he was unlovable?”

“No.”

Greg put his hand palm upwards in front of him. A pale long-fingered one slowly and shakily slid above and took it. Greg got closer to Mycroft and moved his other free hand on his cheek. Very slowly, giving the redhead all the time to retreat or oppose, Greg tilted his head towards Mycroft’s and rested his lips on the Government Official’s ones. A small brush of lips, nothing more, enough to make Mycroft inhale sharply.

“I really have to go; promise you’ll call me?”

A scared stare and a small nod was all he got as a response, but from Mycroft it was enough. Greg went back to the crime scene with a heart full of joy. He knew it was a tentative beginning… but… _Mycroft!_   

 


End file.
